


Skating Through The Wasteland

by ForgottenChesire



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, M/M, Minor Character Death Mentioned, Wasteland Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: The never ending colors of death and decay as far as the eye can see. The little Pipboy Yuri has on his arm casts a low green haze on everything. A noise echoes behind him. A bottle rolling on the rotting wooden floor. He turns, his hand going to the pistol that has become a faithful companion. Thankfully, it’s not a Raider or other unsavory inhabitant of the wasteland, instead, it’s Viktor.





	1. To Bed With Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OlympicHaruka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlympicHaruka/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for Olympic Haruka, my sister, and occasional muse. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did. I will likely be adding bits to this, a collection of the Life of Vault Dweller Yuri.

_“Home Sweet Home”_

The outside world still gives Yuuri shivers. The never ending colors of death and decay as far as the eye can see. The little Pipboy he has on his arm casts a low green haze on everything. When his sister had left Vault 101, after their parents had died of something that she swore could have been healed on the outside, they had tried to arrest him. _Him_ , who most other Vault Dwellers called chubby and harmless. This meant that he had to escape. He _had_ to get away because the Overseer wasn’t a kind man. He thought execution was a better solution than jail time. Which long story short, so very long, brought him here staring out into the desolate land he was forced to call home.

 

His parents when they were healthy and unencumbered by their Vault duties running the water purification chamber loved to tell him how _their_ parent's parent's parents had traveled over from Japan to settle in America. They spoke mostly Japanese though they could also speak English. _A way to remember those who are gone._ That is what he was told. It’s the only thing he has left to remember them, not counting the few things he had stored in the Vault-Tec storage unit.

 

A noise echoes behind him. A bottle rolling on the rotting wooden floor. He turns, his hand going to the pistol that has become a faithful companion. Thankfully, it’s not a Raider or other unsavory inhabitant of the wasteland, instead, it’s Viktor. The white blond male stands there, his rifle on his back. In another life, he could have been an ice skater. He moves with a command of grace and athleticism that is wasted as a scavenger. The man is staring at him with a look that Yuuri wants to claim is love but is too nervous to label as such. Yuuri turns back to the shattered out window, letting out a breath that could be a sigh.

 

Arms wrap around him, they can’t call him chubby anymore, squeezing him to a firm but slim body. Ahead rests on top of his. No words are spoken. Not then. They stand there watching the vast wasteland.

 

“We will find her,” Viktor promises giving him a gentle squeeze. His voice has a thick accent that Yuuri has slowly learned to decipher. It’s better than the ‘twang’ of most of the scavengers he’s met. Find _her_ that has been his goal since he left. Find home. But as days turns to weeks turns to months Yuuri doubts he will ever find his sister, will ever find his home.

 

A soft kiss is pressed to his head, and the arms around his waist pull him away from the window.

 

“Come, sleep,” Viktor murmurs.

 

“I don’t want to,” Yuuri whispers back. They don’t have to be quiet, not really. They swept the perimeter and the mines that Yuuri has a slight knack for making are set out around the empty house they found. The bedroll they have set out looks as appealing as kissing a Deathclaw. Viktor forces him to lay down, kisses peppering Yuuri’s face. The Vault Dweller is almost afraid his companion will leave him, will go stand guard because one can never be too careful. But Viktor sits down next to him allowing Yuuri to scoot over and lay his head on Viktor’s lap. Slim, long fingers brush through his hair.

 

“Don’t leave me.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

He falls asleep to the sound of Viktor’s breathing, the Russian descendant humming occasionally and slim work calloused hands running through his hair.

* * *

 

_The humming of the generator greets his ears as he looks around the Vault. The lights are bright and he’s sitting on his bed. His sister is sitting on his desk, a sly look on her face._

 

_“When were you going to tell me?” she asks getting up and walking toward him. He drinks in the sight of her. The swish of her hair, the glide of her legs, the smirk on her face. It’s getting so blurry the longer he goes without seeing her. She reaches out and ruffles his hair._

 

_“Falling in love with Nikiforov and not letting me know. He’s the Vault’s favorite after all.”_

 

_“S-shut up,” he grumbles swiping at her hand. On his walls are posters of Viktor, not in ice skates this time but in proper dancing clothes._

 

_“Mom wants him to come to dinner.”_

 

_She walks toward the door. And a sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. He tries to reach out to her before she opens the steel door that transforms from a simple bedroom door to the Vault’s door._

* * *

 

“Mari!” he wakes with a shout, sitting up gasping. Tears are running down his face as the dream warmth of his sister’s hand fades away. He’s tugged into an embrace, the unique stink of Viktor filling his nose. Close isn’t close enough as Yuuri clutches at Viktor trying to melt into the older wastelander. No more sleep is gotten that night.

* * *

 

The sun beats down on them, neither of them the most awake. After his nightmare, could it even be counted as a nightmare, neither of them had felt comfortable sleeping. So now, because of him, they aren’t at their best. Viktor walks with his rifle unholstered but lowered, prepared for anything. Yuuri follows behind, eyes flicking to his Pipboy to avoid running into any hostile forces. They’re heading toward Grayditch, Yuuri had wanted to spend some time in the wilds just in case Mari hadn’t gone for a settlement. If she was out there she was either dead or far better at hiding than they were at finding.

 

He’s about to ask if they can take a break when something pops up on his Pipboy. It’s not hostile but it puts them both on edge. They close in Yuuri ready to cover Viktor should they needed. The blip turns out to be two and Yuuri smiles at the furry looking dogs that are sitting down in front of them. Their fur is matted and mud covered but they are clearly domesticated dogs.

 

“Poodles,” Viktor guess when he gets closer to them. The dogs soak up his attention, “They had owners.”

 

That catches Yuuri’s attention and he gets closer to the newcomers. One could almost be mistaken for a puppy, its ears floppy and face sweet looking. Sure enough, deep in the mess that is their fur is a collar. Their ribs are showing and Yuuri can feel them when he runs his hands over them. He looks over at Viktor.

 

“It would be cruel to leave them…”

 

“Well… we don’t have to worry about running out of food. You have a serious knack for finding it… we could see if they will follow us.”

 

Yuuri flushes at the mention of his habit of finding edible food. With the small poodle pup that Yuuri names Vicchan in his arms Yuuri comes to realize that he may never find his old home but he is certainly making his own with Viktor.

_“You can never come home again.”_


	2. Dealing the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is before Viktor met Yuuri.

_ “In for a penny, in for a pound” _

Viktor pushes his goggles up onto his head. The sun is bearing down on him but thankfully the wind isn’t as fierce as it was. He pats himself down trying to rid himself of excess dirt. The dilapidated house isn’t much to look at, in fact, the roof is half gone and is barely covered by a tarp, but it serves its purpose. Housing the devil. With one more shake, he opens the doors, dodging the wrench that is thrown his way.

 

“That is no way to greet a friend,” Viktor chides dodging yet another thing tossed his way.

 

“You’re not my friend Vitya!”

 

“Fine, how about a repeat customer?” he asks with a smile at the young face behind the counter. The blond scrunches up his face.

 

“That  _ is _ better… I guess.”

 

“You make me feel so loved,” Viktor says dramatically placing a hand on his heart.

 

“Shut up and show me what you have to sell.”

 

Viktor slings off his augmented backpack off his shoulders. It’s a simple brown leather bag, indistinguishable from nearly any other bag if not for the careful stitching of micro mesh that allowed the bag to expand to hold many items. He’s not sure where it came from, other than it certainly wasn’t made in that little hovel he found it in, it could be Vault-Tec for all he knows. Yuri waits patiently, if one counts tapping one's foot as patient, while Viktor digs out what he wants to sell. With a deep breath, Viktor steels himself for bartering with the tiger devil of  _ Fetching Felines Exchange Shop _ .

 

“You’re trying to drive me out of business ain’t ya? Twenty caps for each bullet? Five caps,” Yuri says with narrowed eyes.

 

“Now  _ you _ are trying to kill me. These were hard to get! Fifteen,” counters Viktor.

 

“Five.”

 

“Thirteen.”

 

“Five.”

 

“Ten.”

 

“Deal. Now I’ll take that armor off of you for three,” Yuri says with a cheshire grin as he swaps the bullets for caps. 

 

Viktor splutters for a moment.

 

“You  _ have _ to be kidding.”

 

“Do I?”

 

And on it continues. Until everything Viktor wants to sell is gone and he’s just barely richer. Especially after he finishes restocking. The door to the back of the shop, where the good things that Yuri saves for the richer customers are kept, opens and a ghoul steps out.

 

“Yakov!” Viktor calls out cheerfully waving at the ghoul. A saying his mother would mutter when Viktor asked why so many of the townspeople spoke Russian and shunned those who didn’t, comes to mind as Yakov let’s out a string of Russian curses.  _ Birds of a feather, flock together. _ Yakov looks up from the box in his arms. There is a scowl on his square face that Viktor wonders if it was scorched onto it or just his default look.

 

“Vitya. Finally home or still roaming and making your parents roll over in their graves?”

 

“Scavenging, not roaming,” Viktor corrects shouldering his bag. It’s a bit awkward with his rifle holstered but he has gotten used to it.

 

“Same thing,” Yakov tuts severely, placing the box next to Yuri. Both humans wince at the pops that the ghoul’s elbows make.

 

“I wasn’t young when I became a ghoul and I’m certainly not any younger. Creaks and cracks are to be expected.”

 

Viktor thinks that ‘not any younger’ may be an understatement as there are more bits falling off of him than staying on. Which causes a part of him to wonder what the ghoul looked like before Yakov lost his nose and chunks of his skin. The ghoul has been around for as long as Viktor can remember. The grumpy uncle that is always there. His mother said that Yakov was searching for his ex-wife when the bombs fell. That the old ghoul had had a homemade shelter he had wanted to share with her. Romantic his mother had sighed. Idiotic his father had sniffed. Viktor wasn’t sure what he thought about that other than Yakov used the time he had as a ghoul to become a damn fine teacher. All one had to do to see that is look at Yuri! Yakov had taught Yuri everything he knew about shopkeeping and let the young blond apprentice in the shop, then called  _ The Exchange _ , and now everyone walks with a lighter purse.

 

“If you insist on going out there see if you can find medical supplies. Mila is running low again,” Yakov says going back to what he calls his office. Viktor gives the ghoul’s back a salute and starts backing up toward the door.

 

“Wait” Yuri calls out with a light blush, “Do you have any information on Altin?”

 

“No but I’ll tell you if I hear anything,” Viktor promises the now crestfallen blonde. Yuri pulls himself together muttering something under his breath that Viktor doesn’t catch.

 

“Until next time,” he says with a flourish leaving the store. He’s been in one place too long. He needs to move. Gypsy feet some had called it, a wanders heart others said. It’s a blessing and a curse both to Viktor. But there isn’t anything, anyone, to keep him in this town now that his parents are dead. And there is a wide world out that needs to be explored and scavenged. The travel books in his bag burn and he starts toward the clinic before changing directions and heading toward the bar instead.

 

Anya is standing behind the counter, her current beau sits across from her.  _ The Stilted Princess  _ is rather empty for the time of day that it is. It’s a miracle that Georgi isn’t here in a corner staring at Anya with love in his eyes.

 

“The prodigal son returns!” Anya calls out jovial enough despite the gleam in her eyes. The first drink is on the house but he’s here for food at a more reasonable price and gossip that can lead to profit, not drinks. She waits for him to take a drink before leaning in and whispering:

 

“There’s rumors going around that a couple of Vault Dwellers are out and about. Scurrying around like radroaches. You never know what they are carrying. Might even have a water purifier chip.”

_ “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” _


	3. Beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Viktor in this one. Just how Yuuri escaped from Vault 101.

_ “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” _

Yuuri wakes to the bland grey ceiling of his bedroom and a pounding headache. It feels as if he has gone ten rounds with the biggest Security guard in the Vault and  _ then _ decided to drink his weight in alcohol. He lets out a groan and stumbles out of his uncomfortable bed. It’s dreary and bland but it’s his own. One of three rooms that make up his family unit. His breath hitches as he passes his parents room. The fact that they’ve been dead for two months hasn’t lessened the pain.

 

The looks of fear and confusion that appears on his friends' faces when he sits down at their table in the communal eatery has the hairs on the back of his neck rising. 

 

“ _What are you still doing here?_ ” Yuuko asks, her voice high pitched. It takes a while for his brain to pick up on the fact that she is talking in Japanese. The current Overseer can’t speak it or understand it. Her husband grabs her hand and squeezes it in warning.

 

“ _You should be with your sister,_ ” she hisses.

 

“ _W-what?_ ” Yuuri’s brain isn’t working as it should. He can’t remember what he did last night. It’s all a blur.

 

“ _Can you blame her for leaving him? No offense fatso, but, well, you are fat. He’d die within a day of being… out there._ ”

 

Yuuri looks between them. What on earth are they talking about? Out where?

 

“ _We have to get him out of here._ ”

 

Something big is going on. Now if-

 

* * *

 

_ “They could have healed them. Anyone with brains knows that the surface has medicine.” _

 

_ “You’re talking crazy, Mari.” _

 

_ “Bullshit, Yuuri. Think about it. Minako has been getting transmissions from the surface for a long time. They have to have shit that  allows them to live up there.” _

 

_ “You’re talking about things that will get you and Minako killed!” _

 

_ “Fine… Let’s forget about it… Here let me get you something to drink.” _

 

* * *

 

“ _She drugged me,_ ” Yuuri gasps softly, barely remembering to talk in Japanese. His heart is thudding in his chest as he looks up at his friends.

 

“ _And left the Vault._ ”

 

They nod their heads.

 

“ _We- I thought she took you with her when you didn’t come to breakfast yesterday,_ ” Yuuko says.

 

“ _She must have accidentally overdosed you,_ ” Takeshi adds. The look on their faces says they hope she accidentally overdosed him. But they’ve been fighting since their parents died. It’s possible that she didn’t-

 

He shakes that thought from his head.

 

“ _I… I have to go after her. I have to find her_.”

 

Right as he says this the cool voice of the Overseer oozes from the public announcement systems.

 

_ “Yuuri Katsuki, please report to my office. Yuuri Katsuki, please report to my office immediately.” _

 

“We will help you,” Yuuko promises as Security guards come to escort him away. He doesn’t know how they will help. Yuuko is a teacher and Takeshi is a physical therapist for the medical bay. Calming breaths don’t really calm him as he’s forced into the office that overlooks most of the communal areas of the Vault.

 

His mind zones out and if pressed he won’t be able to explain how he was able to convince the Overseer not to kill him right then and there. He won’t remember slipping the guards who weren’t too worried about chubby, overweight, Yuuri slipping away. They forgot that he was a student of Minako when she was still teaching ballet. They forget that survival instincts are strong even in those with a bit of weight on them.

 

Yuuko shoves a bag into his hands, her face just as filled with tears as his own. They have alibis and are needed for the continued survival of the Vault. He is not. Takeshi hugs him before shoving the access key to the Vault door in his hand. People are yelling, Security, and his friends duck away to hide.

 

Oh so slowly the door to the outside world opens. Behind him he can hear them yelling his name, cursing him and his sister. Tears pool in his eyes as turns away from the place that is his home. Yuuri breathes harshly as he runs from the only home he has ever known. It’s just too much for him to handle but he can’t stop. First, his parents die, an illness that the doctors hadn’t been able to fix. Then his sister left the Vault. She left  _ him,  _ she had  _ drugged  _ him. Not that Yuuri blames her. He’s not the most useful person in the Vault. Unlike his parents, he hadn’t been very good at working the water purifiers, unlike his sister he wasn’t good at anything. Except eating. But it all weighs down on him. He’s losing  _ everything. _

 

His chest is heaving not too long after he has run until he can’t see the Vault anymore. He collapses to his knees. His hands, so pale compared to the red-orange of the hard dirt beneath them, clench digging little furrows. Almost afraid he looks up at the sky. The sky that he has only read about in books. They describe the sky as bright blue during the day and a dark almost purple at night. It’s day time. The bright light of the sun hurts his eyes but he laughs. His Pip-Boy makes a beeping noise and he looks down curious. It’s something he’s never really paid any attention to before now. All sorts of new, to him at least, functions are popping up. V.A.T.S, Inventory Sorter, Health Panel and a HUD not counting the map. Curious he flips through each of the tabs. The radio comes on, one of the radio station that Minako managed to pirate down there coming to life.

 

The noise soothes him as he goes through what Takeshi packed for him. It’s mostly food, some bobby pins and a screwdriver, personal effects including pictures of his family, and a knife. Only Security were allowed guns so it’s no surprise that one of those isn’t in there. It takes a bit to see that he also has what his Pip-Boy labels ‘Pre-War Money’ as well. His map pings again and he sees that is a Marker stating where Vault 101 is along with a town or something that isn’t too far away. A day, maybe two, walk away.

 

Shakily he stands. He can do this. With a nod of his head, he starts in the direction of the town. A goal forming in his mind. Find his sister. And maybe see if he can convince the Overseer to let them both back inside. But his sister is the top priority.

_ “What is coming is better than what is gone.” _


	4. Sick Days

_ “Health is not valued until sickness comes” _

Viktor wakes up with an itch in his throat. It’s easy to ignore as a soft cough makes it go away for a moment. It’s been raining nonstop for five days. The poodles they found nearly a month ago woof in irritation as they rearrange themselves around Yuuri. He’s worried that Yuuri will get sick. After all the Vault Dweller isn’t used to this rain, so it will be easy for him to get sick. He’s thankful that the dogs curl around the young man he has gotten very attached to. Their heat will definitely keep Yuuri warm.

 

His limbs feel slightly heavy but he dismisses it too. It’s early enough that it’s easily explained. A yawn wracks his frame as he grabs his rifle. The perimeter needs to be checked. He doesn’t have a jacket, Yuuri is using it as a third blanket.

 

They’ve holed up in a small shack, Yurio had heard a rumor that Mari was seen somewhere to the west and so off they went. And here they are. Stuck in the hut else they drown in the falling rain. No sign of the exclusive sister. Part of Viktor hates Mari for making Yuuri go through all this. But then he understands the need to do something, anything, the need to move.

 

“Did you go out there without your coat?” Yuuri demands his hands on his hips. It reminds Viktor of his mother, which makes him smile.

 

“Maybe.”

 

The resulting lecture he gets is only stopped when Viktor lets out a string of sneezes. He grimaces feeling the snot to his nose. 

 

“Sorry,” Viktor mutters knowing that he had gotten snot onto his lover’s clothes.

 

Yuuri’s fingers run through his hair.

 

“It’s okay. Let’s get you into the bed,” his lover says pushing him toward the makeshift bed. Viktor sneezes again. His snot appears to be rainbow colored, that can’t be good. He allows himself to be pushed down and covered up. The clucking mother hen that Yuuri has turned into would be enticing if it wasn’t for the fact that the itch is back in his throat and his nose feels as if there is something large in it that wants to come out. 

 

“I should tell you, I hate being sick.”

 

“I think everyone hates being sick,” Yuuri counters digging through a bag. He’s pretty sure it’s his and not the Vault Dweller’s. Makkachin, his poodle so much larger than the small Vicchan, licks his face.

 

“Makkachin,” Yuuri scolds the poodle softly shooing the bigger dog away from Viktor’s face. There is something in Yuuri’s hands that is neither Med-X or any other chem. The prewar medicine that he had nabbed from the feral ghouls for Mila. Viktor watches as Yuuri squints as the instructions before some of the medicine is shoved into his face.

 

“Take this, please.”

 

And who is he to say no to that worried looking face.

 

Things get a little odd after that. He falls asleep. He wakes, walls spinning and wiggling. There are cool hands are on his face, wet noses touch his hands. He sleeps again only to wake what feels like seconds later to expel his stomach contents. He sleeps, he wakes. He sleeps and wakes. It’s a nasty cycle. Especially since a lot of times he pukes or sneezes globs of rainbow snot. Once more he wakes.

 

“Time for more medicine. It’ll be okay,” Yuuri’s voice wobbles in his head. It sounds as if it’s coming toward him through some cloth. He mutters something, he wants to comfort his lover. His hand shakes and feels so heavy. Sleep happens before he can actually touch Yuuri’s face.

 

The next time he wakes, he wakes to crying.

 

“Please, please, don’t take him. Please,” his lover begs as tears fall down his face. He looks to be praying, his poodle Vicchan is whining lowly.

 

“Yuuri?” Viktor asks his voice croaking nastily. Yuuri jerks and Viktor finds himself covered with a crying lover. He hugs Yuuri to him and kisses his temple. God, he still feels like shit. His nose is scrunching up like he needs to sneeze, his throat itches with the desire to cough, and his limbs are still tired but at least he doesn’t feel like going back to sleep to get away from it all.

 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Yuuri states seriously, “No more going out in the rain without your coat.”

 

Viktor nods his head, letting out a cough. Hands grab his face, cool and so soft even with all the hard work that Yuuri has done.

 

“You’re still warm. Still sick,” there is guilt in that voice.

 

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s fine.”

 

Yuuri snorts in disbelief. Viktor kisses his fretting lover’s cheek.

 

“Don’t blame yourself.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Viktor lets out a soft sigh and they both sink into the bedroll. Their dogs take that as an invitation to dogpile them. Yuuri laughs and before Viktor knows it the Vault Dweller is asleep on him. 

 

He lays there on his back, his lover sleeping on his chest and his dogs wrapped around them both. Being sick still, sucks and he can feel a cough building in his chest. But God does this feel good. Viktor runs his fingers all along his lover’s body. When he had set out to find the Vault Dwellers he had expected sneering men who while completely naive about the wasteland thought they were better than those living there. What he found instead was a shivering, scared, bruised and battered man with brown eyes so expressive that Viktor just wanted to keep him forever. The wasteland had hooked its fingers deep into his lover before Viktor had gotten to know him but Yuuri still remained kind. He noses Yuuri’s temple.

 

“I love you,” he whispers croakily. It’s not the first time he’s waited for Yuuri to be asleep before saying the words. His lover is a twitchy, flighty thing and he doesn’t want to scare him off. Yuuri’s hand clenches his shirt. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry about scaring him off.

_ “Treasure the love you receive above all, it will survive long after your good health has vanished.” _


	5. Little Lies, Missed Opportunities and Power Suits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is right after Yuri’s sisterleft the Vault but before Viktor met Yuri.
> 
> Since Otabek doesn’t know the Vault Yuri and only the Shopkeeper Yuri I call that one Yuri instead of Yurio. Hope that isn’t confusing!

_ “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.” _

Shadows play on the molted wall. Jumping and racing around. It’s almost hypnotic. A soft accompaniment to the warm body laying on him. Sticky and gross feeling from the vigorous rounds of lovemaking that happens every time they are able to meet. The stolen hours, secret kisses. Otabek wants to stay here. Wants to stagnate and turn to stone if only so that he can always have his arms around Yuri. To have his eyes be able to drink in the sight of his lover. To have his ears hear every whisper, word, sigh, and moan that would come out of those perfect lips. But life… Life isn’t about wants. It’s about duty. It’s about putting others before yourself.

 

“I can’t stay,” Otabek rumbles softly. One of his large tan hands is running through blond hair. If he could stay, if he could have this slice of heaven he would never leave. But duty calls. There are rumors slithering along the airwaves. The Enclave is coming back, and they have dastardly plots forming. They look to steal everything away. Yuri looks put out by his words, an angry pout forming on his face. Tiny hands slipping from Otabek’s body warn that the comfort that the taller male seeks is about to come to an end.

 

“You always say that,” the young male hisses. He’s so young. Relatively untouched by the horrors of the waste. Fierce as a tiger but soft as a kitten.

 

“You always look as if I will stay. I can’t,” Otabek whispers, trying to keep some part of himself touching the blond.

 

Yuri pulls away from him and he misses the warmth. The blond male leaves the bed, throwing on messy clothing and studiously ignores the man on his bed. It shouldn’t be Yuri rushing around like a scorned lover but Otabek. This room, it’s Yuri’s not his.  So Otabek watches him, memorizes every line, every messy hair knowing that he’s worn his welcome thin and Yuri won’t understand if he tries to stay longer. He is enthralled by the way icy blue-green eyes harden and his hands clench around a dirty shirt.

 

“Can you at least tell me why?” Yuri asks lowly, head bowing and shoulders bunching up. Otabek hates it when Yuri looks like that.

 

Because I’m breaking protocol. Because the Brotherhood doesn’t encourage mixing with those who aren’t in the Brotherhood. Because if I stay I’ll never leave and deserters are not treated well. Families are hunted down, bodies are broken. Because you are the one weakness I have. The reasons circle in his head, over and over like mutated carrion birds. Pecking and pecking and tearing at him without mercy. He doesn’t voice them though. Instead, he says:

 

“You know I can’t.”

 

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue. Like a pill allowed to dissolve unswallowed on the tongue. Slowly he stands, walks over to his smaller lover and cups Yuri’s face. Like this, he holds the only world that matters.

 

“I’ll come back. I always do.”

 

It’s a prayer. Whispered in the dead of night and in between kisses. They kiss. Sweet, slow, almost romantic. A rarity in this fucked up world of death and violence. It’s weakness. It’s strength. It keeps him going even when going seems to mean nothing but pain. Leaving this place takes more strength and will than fighting Super Mutants does. This little Russian settlement that doesn’t even have a name is the closest he has to a home. Not even the Citadel compares.

 

“Leaving again?”

 

Otabek looks at the slim scavenger that is leaning against the building that works as a medical center. Short white blond hair covers blue eyes and though the man looks relaxed Otabek knows better than to dismiss him as a threat. Viktor Nikiforov. He’s come across the man while suited up in full power armor. They have a mutual respect that ends and begins with Yuri.

 

“Yes.”

 

“If you aren’t careful, he’ll find someone else to love,” there is a warning, a promise in the Russian's voice. Viktor pushes off the building and walks over to him. A dark look on a normally jovial face.

 

“You keep hurting him by leaving and maybe I’ll hurry it up some.”

 

Otabek just stares at Viktor. Yuri deserves more than he can give. But Otabek can’t let him go. Yuri was the first one to hold out a hand to him, someone who wasn’t a member of the Brotherhood.

 

“I know.”

 

There are no other complications and Otabek is able to leave.

 

In a hollow stump hides his power armor. Putting it on is like slipping into a role. His visor loads up, map and VATS ready to be used. The loud borderline annoying voice of 2Jay plays in his ears. Maybe one day he’ll be able to stay. He looks back at the town, one last look at heaven before charging back into hell. Back to patrolling DC, back to killing Super Mutants. No time for idle hopes and dreams.

 

_ “So I had a lovely little chat with a woman who claims to be from a Vault. That’s right, a  _ **_Vault_ ** _. Had a Pip-Boy and everything. Nice enough lady. Full of anger though. It appears that the Vault wasn’t very well equipped medically and her parents died. A shame, right? Well, she’s bound and determined to not let anyone else suffer the same fate and is scaving the area for medical supplies. I wish her all the luck in the world.” _

 

Otabek blinks in shock. He honestly didn’t think anyone would leave a Vault if it was functioning. Less than perfect medical supplies be damned. 

 

_ “On to other news in the wastes…” _

 

And on 2Jay blathers as Otabek rushes to join up with the small contingent of Paladins he is patrolling with. There are four other Paladins, good men, and women that he should be honored to know. But that doesn’t stop the resentment that they aren’t Yuri from bubbling up.

 

“Glad you could join us Atlin,” calls out the one who covered for him. His name escapes Otabek’s memory. The other three laugh and together they keep moving. They always have to keep moving.

_ “Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.” _


	6. I Have Sacrificed

_ “Don’t let your emotions distract you from doing what needs to be done. Control your emotions or your emotions will control you.” _

 

Mari doesn’t like thinking about home. About the four grey walls that made up her room and a life that was never truly hers. They wanted her to be a preacher for god's sake, a preacher. She doesn’t think about that or about watching her mother and father wasting away. The doctor’s uselessness. She doesn’t think of broken promises. Most certainly doesn’t think of her baby brother.

 

If she did, if she does, she’ll break into tiny little pieces. And she can’t break. She can’t. If she breaks than everything will be for nothing.  _ If it’s already not for nothing. _

 

So she doesn’t  _ think _ about the Vault. She  _ dreams _ instead. Dreams of smiles and laughter. Dreams of conversations that happened. Dreams-

 

_ “They could have healed them. Anyone with brains knows that the surface has medicine.” _

 

Wishes-

 

_ “Fine... Let’s forget about it… Here let me get you something to drink.” _

 

In this dream, it is an actual drink. This time there are no shaking hands. No Radroach poison. Just a drunk little brother. A little brother with adoring eyes that slumps against her. That listens to her speak, logically, instead of emotionally, and agrees with her. Leaves with her. In her dreams, there are no reasons for her to break.

 

A  _ snap!  _ wakes her from her dreams turned nightmares. Yuuri’s eyes slowly glazing before slumping over. Chest unmoving. She jolts up, hand reaching for her knife and V.A.T.S up. No danger. She’s as safe as she can be in the Wasteland. It’s just the Steel Ranger she managed to save from a Super Mutant. The rest of his Squad slaughtered, she doesn’t feel bad about salvaging the useful things from their bodies after she made sure the living one stayed living.

 

“Sorry,” the tall man says when he sees her awake. Yuuri would be terrified of him, even if she’s sure that Mister I-can’t-remember-my-own-name is younger than her brother and a complete softy. He has a stern face and a deep voice that makes him more intense than he is. The light from their fire gleams off the dented and almost nonfunctioning armor he has. She can fix a water purifier but not a power suit. With a shaky breath, she puts down her knife.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Ranger doesn’t believe her, she can tell by the pinch of his lips. But he doesn’t push.

 

“We’ll need to resupply  soon.”

 

A redirect, obvious and abrupt, but appreciated.

 

Her Pip-Boy glows green as she toggles over to the map. Eyes narrow in concentration.

 

“There’s a Vault closer than there is a town-“

 

“We don’t have the supplies-“

 

“I wasn’t saying we’d hit the Vault first,” she snaps. Lies. The Wasteland had medicine but medicine that was scavenged from broken down Vaults. The rumors spread through the airwaves, picked up by Vaults and heard by desperate dwellers are lies. Is lies. The surface couldn’t have saved her- she yanks her brain from that line of thought and thinks instead of her salvation. Of the man who swears there is a factory that can be restored. One that will make medicine readily available. 

 

_The stores are empty. Empty of anything that isn’t decaying or dead. No food. No ammunition. No_ ** _medicine._** _She thinks of the calm voice promising food and medicine. That voice that coo’d out into the darkness that the surface was safe because they were here._ ** _Lies_** _. All_ ** _lies_** _. Mari beats her fists into the ground, ignoring the blood that splatters up onto her face. There are footsteps behind her, slow and measured. She doesn’t think, just turns around, shotgun raised and an incendiary round chambered. The man standing there is dressed smartly, better than most survivors that she’s seen. His voice spreads out. Promising things like the voice on the radio had. Only he says that they have to work for it._

 

_ “The Enclave lies. It’s what they do. A better station to listen to might be 2Jay’s. If you don’t mind confidence. Might even behoove you find him before searching out the needed items.” _

 

She’s thrown all she is into it. Trusts and hopes that he isn’t wrong. 

 

_ “M-Mari? M-Mari I don’t feel good.” _

 

But he needs things from Vaults.

 

_ “I’m scared.” _

 

Things she can find.

 

_ “What did you do.” _

 

She has to find them.

 

_ “I don’t underst-“ _

 

Ranger is staring at her. Eyes hard. Like he can tell she’s lying. That she’s a murderer.

 

“We don’t have the supplies,” he repeats. She huffs.

 

“I got that. We’ll hit the town, do some bartering and circle back.”

 

That seems to satisfy Ranger as he goes back to looking out into the Wasteland. It’s good that Yuuri isn’t here. He would have hated it.

 

_ “Don’t worry about him. Just gave him a few sleeping pills. He’ll be up before you know it.” _

 

She clears her throat. Like it can clear away the lies. The sins. A smile is forced onto her lips.

 

“Maybe there will be a doctor who can help with your memory.”

* * *

  
  


Mari looks down at the bruising on her knuckles. They are starting to darken, and closing her hand hurts like hell. A distant part of her wonders when she became fine with killing, with threatening people? Wonders when punching someone, flipping them onto the ground, lifting up their head and pressing a gun to the underside of their jaw felt so. damn. good? Ranger is looking at her with those dead grey eyes. Like he’s seeing her soul. But then that’s how he always looks at everything. It makes her want to move.

 

“Two hundred and fifty fucking caps,” she hisses, fingers twitching with the want to hurt something. She feels caged. Caged. God, she hates that. Her companion hums. He’s not condemning her the bastard. Was he always this calm or is it just the fact that he has zero memories? Not that it matters.

 

“I’m sorry there isn’t a doctor here,” she says needing to break the silence. She hates the silence. Needs to talk. There is nothing here except a seriously fucked family charging two hundred and fifty caps to get into there crappy little settlement that didn’t even have a doctor. There are two other “refugees” in the “micro settlement” of The Republic of Dave. Siblings maybe. Or lovers. She’s leaning more toward siblings. The older brother, and she knows that he’s older just by the way the younger looks at him, keeps a careful eye on the other. The young girl is looking at him like he hung the moon. It reminds her of Yuuri making her heart twinge in pain. The male looks at Mari in distrust. Not that Mari can blame him.

 

“I… we have the supplies needed?” She asks Ranger. The taller male nods his head. How he got the shopkeeper to sell to him, Mari doesn’t know.

 

“We do.”

 

She looks back down at her hands. She didn’t use to be like this. And what is worse is she can’t blame the Wasteland. She… Yuuri… all that happened, happened in the Vault. It happened before. With a deep breath, she stands.

 

“Let’s go then.”

 

They are almost to the gate when she hears them. Raised voices. Arguing and then-

 

“Sara get back here!”

 

“Wait!”

 

Mari pauses, looking over her shoulder watching them dash forward. The girl, Sara, reaches her before Sara’s brother reaches her.

 

“Take us with you!” Sara cries. It’s not yet begging. But she knows that look. That desperation for salvation. Of having sacrificed something.

 

“Sara-”

 

“We can trust her enough to get us into the Vault, Michele!” She hisses at her brother. Mari watches them. Watches the silent communication.

 

“You want a bodyguard?” Ranger asks sounding surprised. Mari is too. Sara nods her head quickly. There is the outline of a weapon on her waist. A pea shooter. Nothing that can protect her long. Her brother, Michele, has a rifle on his back that is two shots from falling apart.

 

“Why do you want in?” Mari asks.

 

“Why do you?” Counters Michele.

 

Point.

 

“Keep up. We’ll protect you as best we can. But if you lollygag, if you break away without warning,” she trails off letting the threat linger in the air. Ranger laughs under his breath. He’s proof that she’s blowing smoke. After all, he ran away from her once. Barely able to walk much less shoot after she threatened to leave him behind. And yet he’s still alive. So if they do fall behind, if they do break off, if they do much as gasp she’ll be there. Protecting them.  _ Like she should have protected Yuuri. Should have forced him to come with instead of killing him. Mercy killing or no it’s still killing. _

 

The two nod their understanding and she jerks her head toward the gate. They fall behind her with Ranger taking up the rear. Three people seeking salvation and one searching for memories.

 

_ "Beware of those who talk about sacrifice." _


End file.
